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DUKE.

Sir Valentine!
THU. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine.
VAL. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy
death;

Come not within the measure of my wrath:
Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands;
Take but possession of her with a touch ;-
I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. -
THU. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I;
I hold him but a fool, that will endanger
His body for a girl that loves him not:
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine.

DUKE. The more degenerate and base art thou,
To make such means for her as thou hast done,
And leave her on such slight conditions.-
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And think thee worthy of an empress' love!
Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again.-
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit,b
To which I thus subscribe,-Sir Valentine,
Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd;
Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her.
VAL. I thank your grace; the gift hath made
me happy.

I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake,
To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.

a Verona shall not hold thee.] This is the reading of the only authentic edition of the present play we possess. Theobald, upon the ground that Thurio was a Milanese, and that the scene is between the confines of Milan and Mantua, changed the reading

"Milan shall not behold thee;"

DUKE. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be. VAL. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal,

Are men endued with worthy qualities;
Forgive them what they have committed here,
And let them be recall'd from their exile:
They are reformed, civil, full of good,
And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
DUKE. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them,
and thee;

Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts.
Come, let us go; we will include all jars
With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.(1)

VAL. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold With our discourse to make your grace to smile: What think you of this page, my lord?

DUKE. I think the boy hath grace in him; he

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ILLUSTRATIVE COMMENTS.

ACT I.

(1) SCENE I.-Nay, give me not the boots.] To give one the boots, like the French equivalent, donner le change à quelqu'un, means, to sell him a bargain.

"Ace. What, doo you give me the boots?
Half. Whether will they, here be right
Cobler's cuts."

LILLY'S Mother Bombie, 1594.

So also in The Weakest go to the Wall," 1618:"Tis not your big belly nor your fat bacon can carry it away, you offer us the boots."

if

Steevens thinks the expression arose from a sport the country people in Warwickshire use at their harvest-home, where one sits as judge to try misdemeanours committed in harvest; and the punishment for the men is to be laid on a bench and slapped on the breech with a pair of boots.

But he remarks, the allusion may be to the dreadful punishment known as the boots. In Harl. MSS., 699948, Mr. T. Randolph writes to Lord Hunsdon, and mentions in the P.S. to his letter, that George Fluke had yesterday night the boots, and is said to have confessed that the Earl of Morton was privy to the poisoning the Earl of Athol, 16th March, 1580; and in another letter, March 18th, 1580, "that the Laird of Wittingham had the boots, but without torment, confess'd," &c. The punishment consisted in putting on the victim a pair of iron boots, fitting close to the leg, and then driving wedges with a mallet between those and the limb. Not a great while before this play was written, Douce tells us it was inflicted on a poor wretch, one Fian, in Scotland, in the presence of King James (afterwards our James the First). Fian was supposed to be a wizard, and to have been concerned in raising the storms which the King encountered on his matrimonial expedition to Denmark. The account of the transaction, which is contained in a very curious old pamphlet, states that Fian "was with all convenient speed, by commandement, convaied againe to the torment of the boots, wherein he continued a long time, and did abide so many blows in them, that his legges were crushte and beaten togeather as small as might bee, and the bones and flesh so brused that the bloud and marrowe spouted forth in great abundance, whereby they were made unserviceThe miserable man was afterwards

able for ever."

burned.

In our

(2) SCENE I.—I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton.] Laced mutton was, from a very early period of our history, a cant phrase to express a courtesan. author's time, according to Malone, it was so established a term for one of these unfortunates, that a street in Clerkenwell, much frequented by them, was then called Mutton Lane. Mr. Dyce suggests that, in the present instance, the expression might not be regarded as synonymous with Courtesan; and that Speed applied the term to Julia in the much less offensive sense of a richly-attired piece of roman's flesh. We believe there was but one meaning attached to the term; and the only palliation for Speed's application of it in this case is, that in reality it was not the lady, but her waiting-maid, to whom he gave the

letter.

(3) SCENE I.-You have testern'd me.] The old copy reads cestern'd-a palpable corruption. The tester, testern, teston, derives its name, some suppose, from the French teston, so called on account of the King's head first appearing on this coin,-Louis XII. 1513; or from an Italian coin of the same denomination. In England the name is said to have been first applied to the shilling (originally coined by Henry VII.), at the beginning of the reign of Henry VIII., and was at first of the value of twelve silver pennies; it subsequently became much reduced; and its debasement by an admixture of copper, temp. 1551, and again, 1560, is satirized in Heywood's "Epigrams:

"These testons, look, read; how like you the same?
'Tis a token of grace-they blush for shame."

At the latter period named, it was so far reduced as to be worth but fourpence halfpenny; but it afterwards rose in value again to the value of sixpence.

"Sir Toby. Come on; there is sixpence for you, let's have a

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(4) SCENE II.-What ho! Lucetta!] It may be interesting to compare this scene with the corresponding portion of Felismena's story in Book II. of Bartholomew Yong's translation of the "Diana" of Montemayor, 1598 :

"But to see the meanes that Rosina made unto me (for so was she called), the dutifull services and unwoonted circumstances, before she did deliver it, the othes that she sware unto me, and the subtle words and serious protestations she used, it was a pleasant thing, and woorthie the noting. To whom (neverthelesse) with an angrie countenance I turned againe, saying, If I had not regard of mine owne estate, and what hereafter might be said, would make this shamelesse face of thine be knowne ever after for a marke of an impudent and bolde minion: but bicause it is the first time, let this suffice that I have saide, and give thee warning to take heed of the second.

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Me thinkes I see now the craftie wench, how she helde her peace, dissembling very cunningly the sorrow that she conceived by my angrie answer; for she fained a counterfaite smiling, saying, Jesus, mistresse! I gave it you, bicause you might laugh at it, and not to moove your patience with it in this sort; for if I had any thought that it would have provoked you to anger, I praie God he may shew his wrath as great towards me as ever he did to the daughter of mother. any And with this she added many wordes more (as she could do well enough) to pacifie the fained anger and ill opinion that I had conceived of her, and taking her letter with her, she departed from me. This having passed thus, I began to imagine what might ensue thereof, and love (me thought) did put a certaine desire into my minde to see the letter, though modestie and shame forbad me to ask it of my maide, especially for the wordes that had passed betweene us, as you have heard. And so I continued all that day untill night, in varietie of many thoughts; but when Rosina came to helpe me to

bedde, God knowes how desirous I was to have her entreat me againe to take the letter, but she woulde never speake unto me about it, nor (as it seemed) did so much as once thinke thereof. Yet to trie, if by giving her some occasion I might prevaile, I saide unto her: And is it so, Rosina, that Don Felix, without any regard to mine honour, dares write unto me? These are things, mistresse (saide she demurely to me againe), that are commonly incident to love, wherefore I beseech you pardon me, for if I had thought to have angred you with it, I would have first pulled out the bals of mine eies. How cold my hart was at that blow, God knowes, yet did I dissemble the matter, and suffer myselfe to remaine that night onely with my desire, and with occasion of little sleepe. And so it was, indeede, for that (me thought) was the longest and most painfull night that ever I passed. But when, with a slower pace (then I desired) the wished day was come, the discreet and subtle Rosina came into my chamber to helpe me to make me readie, in dooing whereof, of purpose she let the letter closely fall, which, when I perceived, What is that that fell downe? (said I) let me see it. It is nothing, mistresse, saide she. Come, come, let me see it (saide I): what! moove me not, or else tell me what it is. Good Lord, mistresse (said she) why will you see it it is the letter I would have given you yesterday. Nay, that it is not (saide I) wherefore shewe it me, that I may see if you lie or no. I had no sooner said so, but she put it into my handes, saying, God never give me good if it be anie other thing; and although I knewe it well indeede, yet I saide, what, this is not the same, for I know that well enough, but it is one of thy lovers letters: I will read it, to see in what neede he standeth of thy favour."

(5) SCENE II.-The tune of "Light o' love."] "Light of Love" is so frequently mentioned by writers of the sixteenth century, that it is much to be regretted that the words of the original song are still undiscovered. When played slowly, and with expression, the air is beautiful. In the Collection of Mr. George Daniel, of Canonbury, is "A very proper dittie, to the tune of Lightie Love," which was printed in 1570. The original may not have been quite so "proper," if "Light o' Love" was used in the sense in which it was occasionally employed, instead of its more poetical meaning :

"One of your London Light o'Loves, a right one,
Come over in thin pumps and half a petticoat.'

FLETCHER'S Wild Goose Chase, Act IV. Sc. 1. CHAPPELL'S Popular Music of the Olden Time, p. 221. Shakespeare refers to this tune in "Much Ado about Nothing," Act III. Sc. 4.

"Marg. Clap us into-Light o' love, that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it."

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(7) SCENE II. I bid the base for Proteus.] Lucetta, playing on the word base, turns the allusion to an ancient and still practised sport, known as the base, or prison base, or prison bars. This game is frequently mentioned by the old writers. It consisted in a number of men or boys congregating within certain spaces, from whence one of them issued some hundred or more yards, and challenged any other to come out and catch him before the challenger could make his way to a privileged spot equi-distant from where the two parties were placed. The party who went out and challenged the other was said to bid the base.

lads more like to run

The country base, than to commit such slaughter."
Cymbeline, Act IV. Sc. 2.

"To drinke half pots, or deale at the whole Canne :-
To play at Base or Ben, and Inck-horn, Sir Ihan."
The Letting of Humours Blood in the Head Vaine,
S. ROWLAND, 1600.

"Yet was no better than our prison base.”
Annalia Dubrensia, 4to. 1636.

(8) SCENE II.—I see you have a month's mind to them.] The month's mind, i. e. the religious observances for the dead performed daily for one month after the death of the person on whose behalf they were offered, was generally prompted by regard for the deceased. To perform a month's mind might be taken, therefore, as a proof of strong affection for some one; and when these religious ceremonies ceased with the Reformation, the expression came by degrees to have only the meaning we find attached to it in Shakespeare and his contemporaries, implying a hankering after, or as we now express it, a great mind for, anything.

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ACT II.

(1) SCENE I. To speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.] "It is worth remarking," observes Tollet, "that on All-Saints'-Day the poor people in Staffordshire, and, perhaps, in other country places, go from parish to parish a-souling, as they call it; i.e. begging and puling (or singing small, as Bailey's Dictionary explains puling) for soul-cakes, or any good thing to make them merry. This custom is mentioned by Peck, and seems a remnant of

Popish superstition to pray for departed souls, particularly those of friends." In Lancashire and Herefordshire it was usual at this period for the wealthy to dispense oaken cakes, called soul-mass-cakes, to the poor, who, upon receiving them, repeated the following couplet in acknowledgment :

God have poor soul, Bones and all.

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(3) SCENE II.—And seal the bargain with a holy kiss.] "This," Douce remarks, "was the mode of plighting troth between lovers in private. It was sometimes done in the church with great solemnity; and the service on this occasion is preserved in some of the old rituals." The latter ceremony is described by the priest in "Twelfth Night," Act V. Sc. 1,

"A contract of eternal bond of love,

Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands,
Attested by the holy close of lips,
Strengthen'd boy interchangement of your rings."

And will be further alluded to in the Notes to that
Comedy.

(4) SCENE IV.-Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a Are.] Among the practices imputed to the hapless wretches who in former times had the misfortune to incur the charge of witchcraft, was that of making clay or waxen images of the individuals they were supposed to be hostile to, and roasting them before a fire. By doing which it was supposed they melted and wasted away the body of the person represented. Thus Holinshed, speaking of the witchcraft employed to destroy King Duffe, "whereupon learning by her confessor in what house in the town (Fores) they wrought their mischiefous mysteries, he sent forth soldiers about the middest of the night, who, breaking into the house, found one of the witches rosting upon a wooden broch an image of wax at the fier, resembling in each feature the king's person, made and devised (as is to be thought) by craft and art of the devil; another of them sat reciting certein words of inchantment, and still basted the image with a certein liquor verie busilie . . . . . They confessed they went about such manner of inchantment to the end to make awaie with the king; for as the image did waste afore the fire, so did the bodie of the king break forth in sweat. And as for the words of the inchantment,

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(5) SCENE V. To go to the ale with a Christian.] Launce is here supposed, though I think erroneously, to refer not to the ale-house he had before mentioned, but to one of those periodical festivities which our rustic ancestors delighted in observing about the sixteenth century, called Ales. Such as the Leet-ale, Lamb-ale, Bride-ale, Clerkale, Church-ale, and Whitsun-ale.

The Church-ale, we learn from Drake, was instituted generally for the purpose of contributing towards the repair or decoration of the church. On this occasion, it was the business of the churchwardens to brew a considerable quantity of strong ale, which was sold to the populace in the churchyard, and to the better sort in the church itself a practice which, independent of the profit arising from the sale of the liquor, led to great pecuniary advantages; for the rich thought it a meritorious duty, besides paying for their ale, to offer largely to the holy fund. Other Ales, however, were held by agreement, annually or oftener, by the inhabitants of one or more parishes, each individual contributing a certain sum towards the expenses. An interesting proof of this is found in a MS. from the "Dodsworth Collection" in the Bodleian Library: "The parishioners of Elveston and Okebrook, in Derbyshire, agree jointly to brew four Ales, and every Ale of one quarter of malt, betwixt this (the time of contract) and the feast of St. John Baptist, next coming; and that every inhabitant of the said town of Okebrook shall be at the several Ales; and every husband and his wife shall pay twopence, and every cottager one penny; and all the inhabitants of Elveston shall have and receive all the profits and advantages coming of the said Ales, to the use and behoof of the said church of Elveston. And the inhabitants of Elveston shall brew eight Ales betwixt this and the feast of Saint John Baptist, at the which Ales the inhabitants of Okebrook shall come and pay, as before rehearsed; and if he be away at one Ale, to pay at the toder Ale for both," &c.

ACT III.

(1) SCENE I.-St. Nicholas be thy speed!] Launce in vokes St. Nicholas to be Speed's speed, because this saint was the patron of scholars. The reason of his being so chosen may be gathered, Douce tells us, from the following story in his life, translated from the French verse of Maitre Wace, chaplain to Henry the Second :-"Three scholars were on their way to school, (I shall not make a long story of it,) their host murdered them in the night, and hid their bodies; their *he reserved. St. Nicholas was informed of it by God Almighty, and according to his pleasure, went to the place. He demanded the scholars of the host, who was not able to conceal them, and therefore showed them to him. St. Nicholas, by his prayers, restored

the souls to their bodies. Because he conferred such honour on scholars, they at this day celebrate a festival."

Whether the election of St. Nicholas as the tutelary saint of scholars, had really its origin in the belief of this legend, is perhaps too much to say. He appears to have been very early and very generally so acknowledged in this country. The parish clerks of London were incorporated as a guild, with this saint for their patron, in 1233; and we find that the first statutes of St. Paul's School required the children to attend divine service in the cathedral on bis anniversary.

A word defaced in the manuscript.

ACT IV.

(1) SCENE III.-Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity.] "It was common, Steevens observes, "in former ages for widowers and widows to make vows of chastity in honour of their deceased wives or husbands. In 'Dugdale's Antiquities of Warwickshire,' p. 10-13, there is the form of a commission by the bishop of the diocese for taking a vow of chastity made by a widow. It seems that, besides observing the vow, the widow was for life to wear a veil and a mourning habit. The same distinction we may suppose to have been made in respect of male votaries; and, therefore, this circumstance might inform the players how Sir Eglamour should be drest, and will account for Silvia's having chosen him as a person in whom she could confide without injury to her own character."

(2) SCENE IV. And threw her sun-expelling mask away.] "When they use to ride abroad they have masks and vizors made of velvet, wherewith they cover all their faces, having holes made in them against their eyes, whereout they looke. So that if a man that knew not their guise before, should chaunce to meet one of them, he would think he met a monster or a Devil, for face he can shew none, but two broad holes against their eyes, with glasses in them."-STUBB'S Anatomie of Abuses, 4to. p. 59, 1595.

So Randle Holme, "Academy of Armory," book iii. c. 5, speaks of vizard masks that covered all the face, having

holes only for the eyes, a case for the nose, and a slit for the mouth. They were easily disengaged, being held in the teeth by means of a round bead fastened in the inside. These masks were usually made of leather, covered with black velvet.

(3) SCENE IV.-I'll get me such a colour'd periwig.] Periwigs are said to have been first introduced into England about 1572, and were worn of different colours by ladies long before the use of false hair was adopted by men. Heywood has a passage in which he makes Sardanapalus exclaim :

"Curl'd periwigs upon my head I wore,

And, being man, the shape of woman bore."

And perwickes are mentioned in one of Churchyard's earliest poems. So also in Barnabe Rich's "Honestie of the Age," 1615:-"The attire-makers within this forty years were not known by that name, and but now very lately they kept their lowzie commodity of periwigs, and their monstrous attires closed in boxes; and those women that used to weare them would not buy them but in secret. But now they are not ashamed to set them forthe upon their stallssuch monstrous mop-powles of haire, so proportioned and deformed, that but within this twenty or thirty years would have drawne the passers-by to stand and gaze, and to wonder at them."

ACT V.

(1) SCENE IV. With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.] We shall have occasion hereafter to speak at large on the subject of those magnificent and costly spectacles, the delight alike of the monarch and the people, called TRIUMPHS, MASQUES and PAGEANTS, of the grandeur and stateliness of which in Shakespeare's time, some conception may be formed from a description of an entertainment of the kind Ben Jonson has left us in his Hymenai, or the Solemnities of Masque and Barriers at a Marriage. "Hitherto extended the first night's solemnity, whose grace in the execution left not where to add to it, with wishing; I mean (nor do I court them) in those, that sustained the nobler parts. Such was the exquisite performance, as (beside the pomp, splendor, or what we may call apparelling of such presentments), that alone (had all else been absent) was of power to surprise with delight, and steal away the spectators from themselves. Nor was there wanting whatsoever might give [add] to the furniture or complement; either in riches, or strangeness of the habits, delicacy of dances, magnificence of the scene, or divine rapture of musick. Only the envy was, that it lasted not still! or (now it is past) cannot by imagination, much less description, be recovered to a part of that spirit it had in the gliding by." Speaking of the attire of those who on this occasion assumed the part of actors, he tells us, "that of the Lords had part of it taken from the antique Greek statues; mixed with some moderne additions; which

made it both gracefull and strange. On their heads they wore Persick crowns that were with scroles of gold-plate turned outward and wreathed about with a carnation and silver net-lawne; the one end of which hung carelessly on the left shoulder; the other was tricked up before, in severall degrees of folds between the plaits, and set with rich jewels and great pearles. Their bodies were of carnation cloth of silver, richly wrought, and cut to express the naked, [the flesh] in manner of the Greek Thorax; girt under the brests with a broad belt of cloth of gold imbroydered, and fastened before with jewels: Their Labels were of white cloth of silver, laced and wrought curiously between, sutable to the upper halfe of their sleeves; whose nether parts with their bases, were of watchet cloth of silver, chev'rond all over with lace. Their Mantils were of severall coloured silkes, distinguishing their qualities, as they were coupled in paires; the first, skie colour; the second, pearle colour; the third, flame colour; the fourth, tawny; and these cut in leaves, which were subtilly tacked up and imbroydered with Oo's, and between every ranck of leaves, a broad silver lace. They were fastened on the right shoulder, and fell compasse down the back in gracious [graceful] folds, and were again tyed with a round knot, to the fastening of their swords. Upon their legs they wore silver greaves." -The Workes of BENJAMIN JONSON, folio, 1640. Masques, p. 143.

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